


The Arc of Conflict, Edda 19: Quartz-Eyed Brigitte, and Lúcio, His Eyes Like Mirrors and Smoke

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [125]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Background Relationships, Canon Lesbian Character, Civil War, Developing Relationship, Divided Loyalties, Emotions, F/F, F/M, Family, Genetic Engineering, Genetically Engineered Beings, Identity Issues, Injury Recovery, Long-Distance Relationship, Memory Loss, Multi, Oasis (Overwatch), Post-Talon, Post-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Recovery, Rescue, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Temporary Character Death, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Overwatch - or what is left of it - is at war with the Gods of Oasis. Russia is in a parallel war with itself, Katya Volskaya's government against the popular uprising led by the Aleksandra Zaryanova, the Goddess of Russia. As winter sets in, Zarya's March to Moscow has slowed to a crawl.Overwatch Dolphin 102 - carrying Brigitte and Lúcio flight back to Germany from Watchpoint Nepal - has experienced a major malfunction just north of the Russia-Kazakhstan border.Now, the consequences unfold.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.
Relationships: Brigitte Lindholm/Hana "D.Va" Song, Brigitte Lindholm/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Brigitte Lindholm/Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song, Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song
Series: Of Gods and Monsters [125]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024
Comments: 67
Kudos: 33





	The Arc of Conflict, Edda 19: Quartz-Eyed Brigitte, and Lúcio, His Eyes Like Mirrors and Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> [The formerly invitation-only widowtracer discord server](https://discord.gg/NKnPpx43mK) has decided to open up to widowtracerly fans in general - yes, gingerspider shippers are welcome - so come join that if you like!
> 
> BUFFER WATCH: JANUARY 10+, 2021.
> 
> (We've got some work done on a new Edda that would appear January 17th, but it isn't a complete draft.)
> 
> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it!

"How bad is it?" Angela asked as she flew through the door while Moira operated two consoles, scanning the bodies of Hana's estranged lovers.

"Very," Michael said, from his console, on the far side of the medical beds. "Their bodies aren't an issue, of course, but the brain damage is..."

"Considerable," Moira said, frowning. "Michael's managed to stabilise them, and we're fairly certain at this point they aren't continuing to lose memories or cognitive function - for the moment, at least - but... well. You tell us."

Angela nodded as the screens came up around her, for both patients, taking the scans into her own mind, her nanites and herself one, sorting the data, comprehending it.

"Oh," she whispered. "This is... very bad."

"He won't be able to speak without extensive rebuilding," Dr. Ngcobo said, quietly. "She'll have no real concept of vision, without the same class of work. And they'll both need massive amounts of nervous system repair, in addition to the more conventional treatments."

Angela nodded, as he spoke. Difficult, but manageable - and, she knew, not the end of it.

"It's the memory situation that concerns me the most," her wife said. "May I show you?"

"Of course."

Moira brought up a series of neurological scans. "Do you see, all the protein and cellular decay? They both suffered a series of microstrokes due to clotting from their injuries. It's a miracle either one was still alive when Hana brought them in."

That had been Brigitte. Lúcio, Angela knew, had been quite dead.

"The memory loss alone will be... massive. The cognitive deficits will be worse."

"...but we can recover all that, can't we," Dr. Ziegler replied, her voice flat, and calm. It had, after all, been her work - starting on her wife - which had made it possible. Her work had provided the tools - all the tools needed to bring them back... with caveats. "Just not as they are, now. They'd need to be... like us."

Dr. O'Deorain nodded, having wanted to let Angela get there, but on her own. "That was my conclusion as well. We can do it, and so we should. It isn't even a question - to my mind, we have an _obligation_ to do so. Not just to them, but to Hana, as well."

Angela’s lips tugged down into a frown as she touched the image of Brigitte’s nervous system. "It's awfully convenient, though."

"It is." The geneticist did not deny the truth. They'd wanted both patients on their side - amongst them as peers - for months now, and not just for Hana's sake. "But no less true for it."

"Dr. Ngcobo," Angela asked, "...is that also your opinion?"

The neurologist had been thinking this through since the two bodies were dragged in an hour before, still covered in blood, and burns, freshly pulled from the ruins of their destroyed aircraft. He'd known what would be required in minutes. He'd also had the luxury of time to consider it all, and he nodded his assent to Dr. Ziegler. "We could bring them back utterly shattered, or more alive and whole than they have ever been. What kind of choice is that? We are doctors. Of course we do it."

"Can they be awakened at _any_ level, to... to be asked?" She knew better, of course, and the frowns she received as replies confirmed it.

 _What kind of choice, indeed._ "Is Hana outside?"

"Pacing back and forth in the waiting room," Moira replied.

"She's closest we have to next of kin immediately available. She could provide... proxy consent. Let's..." she swallowed. "Let's... get that, at least. If we can. But..." As she trailed off, a whisper of doubt floated, unwanted, from the back of her mind. _This is exactly what Hana had promised we would **not** do - and here we are, doing it anyway. Isn't that the sort of thing we'd promised **ourselves** we'd **stop?**_

But at the same time, she knew the circumstances were so different than anything any of them had imagined.

And it had been too long since they'd been able to improve anyone so deserving, and most of all, for such good cause.

 _It feels like... like back at the beginning. Doing what needs to be done, no matter what. I've missed this,_ she realised. _I've missed this... freedom... so much._

The Goddess of Life exchanged looks with the Goddess of the Mind and the God of Wisdom, and found nothing but conviction and assent. With that much agreement, how could they be wrong?

"I want to speak to her before we begin, but prep them both now. The sooner we can act, the better."

"I've already been synthesising compounds," Dr. O'Deorain smirked, having seen the inevitable almost an hour before. "And the treatment rooms are being readied."

" _Thank you_ ," Angela said, as she accepted their course of treatment. "I'll go talk to Hana."

\-----

Hana wasn’t sure how long she’d sat in the waiting room while the doctors worked. Whatever internal clock she possessed had stopped the instant she’d found the Dolphin carrying her lovers wrecked, fallen from the sky.

Everything else since had been one terrible _moment_ that just went on and on, as if the world had stopped dead in its orbit with no respite or relief from her agony and doubt. Even the tears that she’d shed while pulling the demolished hull apart, trying desperately to pull her loves from the wreckage hadn’t given her a real break, just punctuated every breath with her desperate fear.

The hollow sickness as she’d pulled Lú’s lifeless body free, trying to be as gentle as she could. 

The desperate burst of adrenaline when she’d caught sight of Bri’s armor, and the determination not to lose her, too, when she realized the engineer was still breathing - barely.

That horrible conversation with Angela. The breakdown of the damage.

A choice she’d sworn not to make for them, but one she made, just the same.

She hadn’t even noticed that someone had come in to be with her until, to Hana’s great surprise, Oilliphéist was kneeling down on the floor in front of her, reaching out to wipe away some of her tears with a tissue. 

“You look awful, luv.” Emily handed over another tissue, then stood back a bit. “Try to blow? They keep telling me it’s good to get things out.”

“Thanks,” Hana rasped before she blew hard, tears and snot mixing in the paper before she crumpled it and tossed it into the basket halfway across the room. Some part of her noticed she'd finally got used to the fact that she didn't even need to aim, but the rest of her was still too deep in her pain to care. 

Hana slowly looked around, shocked to realize the waiting room was full. Danielle and Lena made sense, given their partner’s presence. Sombra. Satya. Fareeha. Even Mei-Ling. Efi wasn’t there - what time even was it in Numbani? Hana wasn’t even sure what time it was, period - but Orisa had managed to fit herself into a corner, her optics shuttered with concern. 

“You’re... you’re all... how?”

Lena held up her phone. “Mum called before they got started.” 

_Oh._

“Well…” Hana sniffled again, and Emily handed her another tissue. “Thanks. I... thanks, guys.”

“Em’s idea,” Lena admitted with a little smile. “I mean, I would've come as soon as I heard anyway, but she said _everybody_. Except Zarya, of course. But she sends her regrets.”

Hana blinked as she looked over to the silver eyed Weapon with surprise. “Really? I...” She shook her head, her cheeks burning almost as pink as her smudged war paint. “Sorry. I just didn’t really think... that would be your thing.”

"It's not,” Emily said with a shrug. “Usually, anyway. But this time... I know. I _really_ know. Right now, you're asking yourself, aren't you - '...what have I done?' Am I right?"

The blood seemed to rush right back out of Hana’s face as she went still with shock, unable to even nod.

"Thought so. I've been where you are. _I've done this too_ ,” she explained as she took Hana's hands and squeezed them. “Right after Akande. We'd had a plan. It wasn't a bad plan, but it did _not_ involve coming back and finishing the upgrades. At least, not right away."

She gestured, a quick tilt of her head, over towards Lena and Danielle. "They didn't want to come back. They didn't want to be completed, and I knew that. But..." She looked firmly into Hana's eyes. "By the time Winston... died... I'd already thought about what life would be like if we didn't come home. For all of us, but particularly for Lena. And... I didn't like what I saw. That's when I realised it was the right choice. And they couldn't make it, so... I made it for them."

Hana looked up at Tracer and Widowmaker, who exchanged a pregnant look, and, then, nodded back to her, confirming. "It was the right decision," Lena said, solemnly, her stomach twisting just a bit, even after all this time. "It's... one of the few memories I let Angela bring most of the way back."

"I may've insisted," Emily said, with a slightly pained look. "They both needed to know what I did. And why."

"It didn't feel right in the moment - felt like living a nightmare, really." Lena said. "But... in the end... she was right."

Emily chuffed - it was almost a little bit of a laugh, but a sad laugh, a memory of unhappy times. "I didn't want it to be that way either. They were terrified, and I knew it, and I tried to explain, and I knew they wouldn't understand, and they didn't, not 'til after. And I didn't do it because I was under Aunt Moira's control - I wasn't - I did it because... the more I thought about it... the more I knew it had to be done. For all of us. And I've _never_ regretted it." She met Hana’s eyes, and even through the unexpected sympathy there was a breathtaking intensity in her gaze. “Do you understand, now?”

“I... I’m trying to,” Hana said, unable to look away. “I just... I’m so scared. Scared it won’t work. Scared it _will_. Scared they’ll hate me. Scared they won’t.” She finally was able to drop her head against her chest, shaking back and forth. “This _sucks._ ”

“Course it does, luv,” Emily said with a hint of her usual smile. “You wouldn’t love them so much if it didn’t. Believe me. _I know._ ”

Hana let out a surprised laugh and ever so slowly, the world started to revolve again.

Three more sets of nurses and aides put in their shifts before Angela finally returned to the waiting room, clearly exhausted, Moira and Michael at her sides, able to bring reassurances. None of them would offer guarantees, but somehow, Moira's admission that finally, their tests were proceeding satisfactorily carried outsized amounts of comfort.

The call home - to Brigitte's mother, to Ingrid - went about as poorly, or as well, as could be expected. But Hana insisted she know, even though it would mean Reinhardt, and Torbörn, and Overwatch would know as well. Overwatch's sins, whatever they might have been - and might still be - weren't Ingrid's fault.

As the first critical days wore by, the crowd in the room waxed and waned, as the others returned to work or duties, coming by on shifts, to check in, and provide what support they could. Efi - once she'd heard - came by several times, always with Orisa. But Lena never left at all, not if she could help it.

"Be with them, Deevs," she said, when the two patients were finally ready to move out of critical care. "The whole time. Like I usually am, but... no, not like that. More."

"Of course I will!" Hana said. "I've told Fareeha. To hell with Russia - I'll be with both of them the whole time."

"No," Tracer said, taking Hana's hands. "Like this. Hand in hand. The _whole time_. While they're rebuilding, while they're asleep. _Be there_." She looked deep into D.va's eyes, copper to blued steel. "Tell them how much you love them, every single second. I'll come in, I'll feed you, stand in for you when you have to be gone. But don't leave, not even for a minute, except when y'have to."

Hana felt the strength of Lena's conviction through their shared contact, but didn't quite understand it. "I... will, but... why?"

"'Cause otherwise, they're gonna to be _so angry_ when they wake up. They've been on the other side of an off-again on-again war to stop us, and now they'll be _like_ us, and... well." She grinned a crooked grin. "Been there, y'know. It's not a lot of fun. And y'can't fix it, not really - but y'can make sure they know you love 'em."

So Hana sat between the two beds, holding her lovers' hands, Brigitte and Lúcio both still in the full restraining harness, moaning despite the sedation, despite the analgesics, the fire in their bodies inescapable as they burned, letting go only when Dr. O'Derain or Dr. Ziegler or Dr. Ngcobo needed to do another round of work, and there was no other option.

She sat, worried. She'd felt nothing yet, and wouldn't yet, not really, it took a couple of days for the first coils of the ring to build, and even Lena thought this might be a little early, but she wasn't going to risk it. She would be there for them from the very start of their rebirths.

Lúcio would rage, she knew. Brigitte would hate her, she feared. But they would know she loved them. If nothing else, there would be that.

Five days later, she felt the first touch of fear, of _his_ fear, and rage, of _her_ rage, the reverse of what she'd expected, and she let her love fly to them, holding, soothing, gentle as her lovers' first new thoughts trembled, afraid and angry.

Eight days later, she could feel Brigitte, still unconscious, still half-formed, but exploring, feeling her way, so much more than she could've felt with anyone else. She felt her fear, and her rage, and accepted it, and soothed, and loved, as best she could. A day after that, she did the same, for Lúcio.

Twelve days later, both her lovers felt themselves exist. That shouldn't feel novel, but it did, like it was new, somehow. As though they'd existed, but not really, not before now, and now, they really did.

Fifteen days later, they felt Hana existing, too, and knew, even unconscious, that they were not alone. They weren't sure how that could work, but they knew it did work, and that mattered. It had been far too long.

Eighteen days later, Brigitte felt more of herself awaken, pieces falling together, coming to her, coming together in her, as she became more complete, more aware, almost awake. Hana was there, too. And Lúcio? She wasn't sure. Definitely Hana, though, there, but... staying out of the way. Letting her do it. That felt... for the best.

"What..." she thought, the feeling having become a thought, the thought having become a word, a spoken word, a word she didn't mean to say, but it went outside of her, and she knew she'd spoken it. Her first new word. Her first new thought. Her first. New. Her.

She'd been Changed. She felt ... wonderful. So strong. So quick. So aware. So... _alive._ But Changed, and she knew it, and was angry.

"What... did you _do_ to me?" she asked, in a whisper.

From outside herself, she heard a voice, and it was a voice, not a thought, it was Hana's voice, and her thoughts leapt to it, as it said, "You were... you were shattered. Lost. About to die. Now you aren't, and won't. Lu, either. Ever."

"You broke your oath," Brigitte whispered. "You broke your _oath._ "

"I did," Hana said, head bowed. "I didn't want to. But to save you, I had to. And so, I did."

Brigitte nodded, just a little, still angry, but not as much as she'd thought she'd've been. It was no small thing, not to die, and she believed what Hana said to be true. She had not died. And she would not.

Lúcio felt it, too, just a little, coming to the surface, as though swimming up from a great deep sea, the world growing brighter, and brighter, his eyes still closed, as he made his way up, collecting himself, finding himself, until he broke through, into awareness, and he whispered, "...Hana?"

"Please, please, don't hate me," Hana said, squeezing their hands a little more tightly, the raised intensity of the touch drawing her focus, the most important thing in the world.

"Where are we?" he whispered, fearing the answer he thought he already knew.

"Geneva," Hana replied, quietly, to them both. "You're in Geneva."

He heard, opened his eyes, and wondered what colour they were, as Quartz-Eyed Brigitte looked at the goddess who had been her lover, and then back to him. 

"What... happened to us?"

"You lived," Hana said. "You lived. And it's my fault, and I'm not sorry. You lived. Please... just, please, don't hate me for it."

\-----

"Physically, you are very well. But how do you feel?" asked Angela, standing at the foot of the two beds, taking notes, a teleporter in the far right corner, on the other side of the room. Lena Oxton stood beside their beds, leaning against the outer wall, next to the window, blinds partly open, partly closed, letting in daylight, but not views. Hana sat between them, still, not having left, even once.

Brigitte hadn't yet noticed that as angry as she was, as betrayed as she felt, she'd still never let go of Hana's hand.

"Fine," she snipped. "Strong. Great. Are we impervious enough to bars now, Hana?"

"What?" Lena asked, looking confused, but Hana's heart leapt a little, knowing that Brigitte remembered something so trivial, before remembering that it wasn't trivial at all.

"Yeah," the Goddess of Strategy said, not looking up. "You are. I didn't think to bring any, though. Sorry."

"Are you happy now?" Brigitte demanded.

"No," Hana replied, truthfully. "I'm really not."

"Good."

"Can we leave?" Lúcio demanded. "If I go out that door right now, what happens? Am I really in Geneva?" He pointed with his left hand to the physical door, his right hand still in Hana's, and he didn't entirely know why. It felt important. Somehow.

"I didn't lie about that," Hana said quietly. A little hurt, but knowing she kind of deserved it. "I didn't lie about... anything."

"You _are_ in Geneva," Angela said, nodding. "I did not approve, but Hana insisted we transfer you here as quickly as we could do so with reasonable safety." She pointed at the teleporter. "That is how we got you here, and it is my door home."

"This another one of _your_ hospitals?" he asked, skepticism in his voice. "Is it a _Concordat_ hospital?"

"No - again, at Hana's insistence. This is Geneva University Hospital. Geneva is a Concordat member, of course, but this individual institution is not directly affiliated with us. We've only rented this suite, it is not mine; we are operating under Swiss law, not that of Oasis. And you are under my care, not a prisoner. The hospital will insist you be discharged properly, I imagine, but they will not stop you. And neither will I."

"Hmf," he said. "Does anybody know where we are? What you've been doing?"

"Your manager, your record label - they all know. We've been keeping them up to date on your condition - minus various specific details, of course - following the 'crash landing.' Your story has been all over the news, if filtered a bit."

 _I guess being a celebrity has some perks_ , he thought. "Couldn't hide my disappearance, you mean."

"We did not try, or even want to. Also, Brigitte - we have kept Ingrid informed. With rather more specific details, as she is, after all, your mother."

"Mom knows?!" Brigitte said.

"Yes. She is on her way here. As is Reinhardt. We informed them you had awakened, of course. We did request, however - given the circumstances - that your father remain outside of Switzerland. He has chosen to respect that request."

"Mom knows. Papa knows. Papa Reinhardt knows."

"Yes. Ingrid and Reinhardt are meeting in Germany, and should arrive here late this evening. We offered teleportation but... they declined."

"Huh."

Brigitte sat, quiet and still, for a moment.

“I’m… conflicted," she said, left hand in Hana's, looking at her right, seeing everything in ways she'd never seen anything before. "I… I thought I wouldn’t be. I thought..."

She shook her head. 

"Hana, we had your _oath_. I held on to that tight, because I didn't think you'd break it. But I was pretty sure that if you did... if _this_ happened... I’d wake up, and think everything was for the best. That I'd be happy about it, like the rest of you. That I'd be another..."

She wouldn't say Goddess, even though she knew it to be true.

"Another member of your happy little pantheon. Or worse, a tool, or a..." Her eyes flickered briefly to Lena. "A _weapon_."

“Oh, luv," Tracer said, "I wish I’d known… that’s not how it works. That’s _never_ been how it works.”

The actual Weapon in the room teleported over and hugged quartz-eyed Brigitte, who didn't know why she didn't shove her away. “Particularly not in _this_ case. Besides, we couldn't make you into that - not and let you still be _you_.” She grinned, broadly, leaning back, fuzzling Brigitte’s hair. “We may be gods, but we’re still _people_.”

“You are _not_ gods,” she said, snapping, and surprised at herself for being able to do so. She looked up at Angela. "None of you."

The doctor smiled and sipped tea from her "world's okayest goddess" mug, lifting herself just a little off of the ground. "If you like."

"Clear out, both of you," Hana said, voice suddenly firm. "You've got your readings?"

"I do," Angela nodded. "Lena, with me, please?" And she stepped into the teleporter.

"You sure you've got this, Hana?" the goddess of time asked, hesitating. "Not that I think either of you'd do anything t'her, I'm just... y'know. Worried."

 _She thinks we could_ , Brigitte realised. _What... does that mean?_

"Tracer - out. Now!" Hana snapped.

Lena nodded, understanding. "It's good t'see you again, Lúcio," she said, before popping into the teleporter. "Bye..."

“Hey.” Hana managed, nervously, once they were alone. “Please don’t hate me. I ... I just wouldn't let you die. Not like that. Not at all. I couldn't.”

“You keep saying that,” Lúcio said, quietly. “I don’t even understand how we got hurt. We were on the Dolphin heading back to Germany, and then...”

Brigitte gasped, sharply, as she remembered, memories falling into place. Pain. Blood. A flash of pink and white as her vision began to tunnel, and someone crying out, even as she felt herself being picked up. “We got... shot down. We got _shot down_. And then you brought us in? Yourself? But you said..."

She leapt to a conclusion she did not want to believe.

"...did you shoot us down?! Did you lie about that, too?!”

Hana bolted up, alarmed. “No! I said I wasn't going to fight you, and I _didn't_ fight you. And the Weapons weren't even there."

" _Really?!_ "

"Yes! Sombra and I were there for recon and intel, and that's _it_. When I saw your IFF come into range I peeled out, like I said I would, I swear. There's air logs if you don't want to take my word for it, if... if that would mean anything to you. The Russians probably have some too. Check theirs, if you don't trust ours."

Brigitte and Lúcio both found themselves believing Hana, even if they weren't sure why, as the story spooled out.

"But... before I could even get very far, your transport went down, hard. Some kind of surface to air missile, I think. Sombra told me you were hit, and I came back, saw what had happened, and just started tearing into the wreckage, trying to dig you out."

"What happened to our pilot?" Lúcio asked.

"Direct hit to the cockpit. It would've been hopeless even for us. We aren't invulnerable, just... close to it. I'm sorry."

"It was that bad, huh," Brigitte said, suddenly nervous, memories of plummeting earthward suddenly in her mind.

"Yeah. Your armor was crushed. You were bleeding out. There was no way Overwatch or Russian forces would've reached you in time.” She smiled weakly, tears in her eyes. She looked to Lúcio. "You didn't even have armour. You _weren't_ alive. And Angela wasn't there, but ... I can teleport. So I got you both into my cockpit, teleported home, and I think you know the rest."

“I... see,” Lúcio said, looking around. "More than I've ever seen, far as that goes."

He hummed a couple of notes and saw their tones, familiar, comforting - the same as he remembered.

"So..." he said, urging Hana on. "You brought us here. And they just started right in. So much for _their_ promises..."

“It was the only way to save you," Hana insisted. "Yeah, okay, everyone wanted you with us, sure. It wasn't just me. Sombra also thinks we need you, Symmetra's been pulling for a goddess of engineering and thought you'd be good... and..."

She took a deep breath, determined to carry it through.

"Yeah. I still wanted this," Hana confessed again, softly, like she had those months before. “Desperately. You knew that. I _told_ you."

"And I said no," Lúcio said.

"We both did," Brigitte agreed.

"I know. I didn't want you _this_ way. I wanted you... I wanted you to choose. Both of you.” She stood and let go of their hands, both feeling the loss at once, confused, as Hana gestured towards the door. "Which is why we're in Geneva. Which is why Ingrid knows, and Reinhardt knows, and why they're both on their way here. I can't unchoose what's been chosen - I can't unchange you - but the way out is right there. You can take it whenever you want. Now, tonight, the next day, whenever. Nobody will stop you."

She paused, for a moment.

"Including me."

Tears began to track down Hana’s cheek, and Brigitte reflexively reached out, intending to wipe them away. But the moment her hand touched the skin of Hana’s face...

“Oh,” she whispered, reverently.

“Yeah," Hana hoped, desperately.

" _Oh._ "

"What?" Lúcio said, confused, and reached over himself, and felt it, too. His eyes went wide, the smoked mirrors of his irises filled with glitter and sparkles by the light.

Hana nuzzled into Lúcio's touch, and his thoughts fell away for a moment, lost in the flood. "What... what is this?" he managed, after a moment.

"Everything," Hana whispered, taking both their hands between her own, feeling their shock as they touched each other, not just her, nuzzling into their intertwined hands, and Lúcio's and Brigitte's words were gone. "Everything," she managed, "that matters."

"I love you both, _so much_ ," she whispered. "Please, please don't hate me for this. Please."

"C'mere," Brigitte said, collecting herself a little, overwhelmed, now crying, both for everything they'd lost, and everything they'd gained. "Both of you. Please. Come. Here. I... I need you."

Lúcio pulled himself out of one bed, across the gap, and into the other, Hana carrying herself along with him, and the three gods - two of them so very, very new - lay, quietly, together, feeling each other out in ways they never could have, before.

"I'm pretty angry," Lúcio said, eventually, once he found words again. "No, I'm _really_ angry. But I'd never hate you, Hana. I... I don't think I could. I still love you."

"I know I can't hate you," Brigitte realised, still exploring the rush of everything she'd felt, and was still feeling. "I'm... _infuriated_. I understand why you did it, but an oath... an oath matters. I can't just wipe that away. But... I still love you, too."

She squeezed Lúcio's hand, amazed at how such a simple act changed the sense of sharing. "I love you both. And... I finally... yeah. Why you wanted this so much. Why you needed it."

"See?" Hana asked.

"Yeah," Lúcio said.

"Yeah," Brigtte agreed. "Finally. It doesn't make it right... but... I _understand_."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fifty-fourth instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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